


Never Gonna Give You Up

by Boogum



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Friendship, Gen, Humor, trapped together, written for totographs zine
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-16
Updated: 2021-03-16
Packaged: 2021-03-24 19:06:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,761
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30076929
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Boogum/pseuds/Boogum
Summary: Three minutes. It has been precisely three minutes and six seconds and Kagami already wants to murder Rooster Hair.Or, in which Kim and Kagami are trapped together in a magic cube.
Relationships: Lê Chiến Kim & Kagami Tsurugi
Comments: 8
Kudos: 40
Collections: Totographs Zine





	Never Gonna Give You Up

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this one for the totograph's zine and had the luck to have the wonderful celery days to illustrate it. (download the zine for free [HERE](https://drive.google.com/file/d/19cN1GzWB9numkIcMCQ5PWlzgYrIXiuN7/view) if you wanna check it out!)

White. It’s all Kagami can see, though not in the endless mist kind of way. More like being trapped inside of a plastic container. No contents, no door. Just white. 

_Pop!_

A boy wearing a red shirt appears like a burst of fireworks: sudden, colourful, and loud. “Kagami!” he exclaims, and gives her a cheerful salute from where he’s fallen splat on his butt. “See you got caught by the akuma dude, too.” 

Her eye twitches. This boy with rooster hair knows her name. She cannot remember his. This is bad. Sure, she could ask him, but that would be admitting failure. That would show that she does not care for Adrien’s friends, and then what would Adrien think of her? What would any of them think of her? 

No, there is only one thing for it. She must never let Rooster Hair know that she does not remember his name. 

“Yes,” she says, smiling with a wideness that she hopes matches his. It feels a bit stiff, a bit like it’s been carved into her face, but she has not mastered the art of smiling, no matter how much she practices. (This frustrates her. If only smiles were like her weakling, fencing opponents. She would beat those smiles into submission and have the best smile of all.) 

He grins wider, as if it’s a competition, and then he leaps to his feet. “Hey, do you have any snacks?” 

She blinks. “No.” 

“Too bad.” 

He starts picking at his teeth with his finger. Her nose wrinkles in disgust. Something tells her that it might have been better to be trapped in here by herself.

* * *

Three minutes. It has been precisely three minutes and six seconds and Kagami already wants to murder Rooster Hair. 

“You alright there, Kags?” he asks. 

Her lips purse. “Do not call me that.” 

“Mimi then?” 

She glares at him like he is an ant who has been foolish enough to come near her orange sorbet, her finger already positioned to squish. “No nicknames.” 

He shrugs and goes back to singing. She resists the urge to throw her useless, got-no-signal phone at his head. He does not sing badly, but he is singing Rick Astley’s “Never Gonna Give You Up,” which she cannot forgive. (Kagami has been rickrolled enough times for the song to hold a special place of loathing in her heart, along with people who chew too loudly, scratchy jumpers, and garden gnomes.) Plus, she doesn’t understand his desire to sing when there is no need. It’s not as if there is a singing competition going on. 

“Here comes the best part,” he says, bopping his head and moving about in some kind of shuffling, wiggle dance. “Take it away, Kags!” 

Her glare is sharper than her sword. Not that he notices. He’s too busy playing air drums. 

“Come on, Kagami, I can’t do this without you.” 

Silence. 

He pauses in his air drums. “Okay, I’ll start you off.” He puts on a falsetto, clearly trying to pretend to be her. “Ooohhh, give you up.” He pauses again, staring at her like a puppy hoping she’ll play fetch with him.

Her expression is flatter than the four white walls. 

He grins and dances closer, amping up his wiggle. “Ooooh, give you up.” 

Nope. Not a chance. 

“Never gonna give, never gonna give.” He pulls finger guns, indicating that it’s her turn. 

Her expression transcends flat. It’s flatter than the flattest of flats, worthy of being chiselled in stone and immortalised forever as a Mona Lisa sequel: “The Answer Is No. No Treats for You. You Are Not Worthy.” Not one to be perturbed, Rooster Hair counters with his biggest grin yet, shuffle-wiggling right up to her so they’re almost nose to nose. He forms his hand into a microphone and holds it to her. 

“Come on,” he says. “You know you wanna join in.” 

She pushes his hand microphone aside with the tip of her finger. “No.” 

He laughs and dances away, whipping out the air drums as he belts out the chorus. A sigh escapes her lips. Where are Ladybug and Chat Noir? 

* * *

“How about an arm-wrestle match?” he says, planting himself in front of her, hand poised and ready to go. 

“No.”

“Push-up competition?” 

She wrinkles her nose. 

“Squats match?” 

“I have a better one,” she says, a smile curving her lips. 

“Ooh, what?” He zips into a cross-legged position, leaning forward with starbright eyes. 

“It’s called ‘who can stay silent the longest.’” 

“You’re on!” He points his finger at her dramatically. “I’m gonna be the champion! Just you watch!” 

“Then let the match begin.” 

He mimes zipping his mouth shut and sits with perfect posture, arms folded and his expression intense. No one is more ready to win this game. Perfect. That’s exactly what she wants.

She leans against the wall and closes her eyes. Now to enjoy the sweet, sweet—

“Hey!” he says. “You’re just messing with me, aren’t you?”

Darn.

* * *

It has been precisely sixteen minutes and forty-three seconds. Rooster Hair is flopped on the floor near her feet like an exhausted toddler, except she knows this is just a ruse. He is never exhausted. He is an endless bundle of chatter and movement.

“Let’s play ‘I Spy,’” he says.

Her body tenses. She does not know how to play this game. Her “How to Make Friends” manual came with a guide on questions to ask, giving compliments, and when to smile. It did not teach her what games she should play when trapped inside a magical cube. She is too embarrassed to admit this, though. Maybe she would to Adrien or Marinette, but to Rooster Hair? The thought is insupportable.

“I’d rather not,” she says.

“C’mon, it’ll be fun. I’ll start.” He rolls onto his stomach, smiling up at her. “I spy, with my little eye, something beginning with J.”

She stares. She digs her fingers into her jacket. She wonders if he looks into her eyes and sees the big blank of nothing that has taken control of her mind. What was it that Marinette called it? Ah, yes. Head empty. She is very head empty right now.

(She hopes she used that correctly.)

Rooster Hair places his hands together in prayerful supplication. “Just one guess. Please?”

Guess? What is she supposed to guess? The thing beginning with J? That does seem likely, but then what if there is a special format? What if she says the wrong words? If only her phone was working. Then she could google search and find the rules, eliminating all chances of making a fool of herself.

The glow of cheerfulness in his eyes clouds over. “Or not. I guess you don’t want to do anything with me.” 

Her stomach wriggles and knots like confused snakes not sure where to go. The entire energy of the cube has dulled, and she knows it is her fault. Too awkward to sing with him, too proud to accept his inconsequential challenges, too bad at friendship to remember his name or play any games. 

No, she is not a winner today. All she has done is upset a boy who tried his best to make the torture cube fun for both of them. That leaves a nasty taste in her mouth, like the natto her mother insists she eats for breakfast because it’s healthy but which Kagami would happily throw out of the dining room window if she could get away with it. 

Kagami glances down at her hands. Glances at him. Glances at her hands. Glances at him. He still looks like a lightbulb that has lost its glow. The natto taste sours stronger on her tongue. 

She clears her throat. Rooster Hair tilts his head, meeting her gaze. Her heart pounds and her palms are sweaty as she forms a fist with one hand, tapping it twice as if doing a microphone check. His eyes widen. 

“Never gonna give you up,” she sings into the hand microphone, her voice small and stilted. “Never gonna let you down. Never gonna run around and—” 

“Desert you,” he joins in, beaming from ear to ear. “Oh yeah! Let’s do this, Kags!” 

He jumps to his feet and gets his air drums out. It’s ridiculous and she cringes at the nickname. (Kags will never be allowed to leave the magic cube. Never.) Still, as they sing the song she loathes and he acts out every instrument with dramatic flair, the corners of her lips twitch higher and higher until laughter is bubbling free of her lips. It’s loud and carefree, the kind of laugh Mother would call unfit for the ears. But it feels good. Really good. 

Maybe indulging in the ridiculous isn’t so bad sometimes. 

They finish the song and smile at each other. (Her smile doesn’t feel so mannequin-like now.) Then something glints in his eye and he steps closer. 

“What?” she says, her shoulders stiffening. 

“With this most brotacular bop of a duet, you have reached the next level.” 

“Next level?” 

“Uh-huh.” Another step. “And you know what that means?” 

She leans away from him, scrunching her nose. “What?” 

“You have unlocked special bro shake rights.” 

She blinks. Blinks again. “Bro … shake rights? You mean a friendship greeting?”

He laughs and slings an arm around her shoulders. “Yeah, and I can’t come up with it myself.” 

Warmth stirs in her chest. Is it possible she has made another friend? Can it really be so simple as singing a stupid song with him to make him feel better? 

“Well?” he says, wiggling his eyebrows and holding his hand out to her. 

Her brow furrows. “Very well, but you must allow me to study bro shakes first. I will not allow ours to be weak because my knowledge is inadequate.” 

Now it is his turn to blink. Then he grins, wide and toothy. “Sounds good.” 

She smiles in genuine relief. “Thank you, Rooster Hair.” 

“Huh?” 

Her eye twitches. Oh no. She did not just say that. How could her mouth betray her like this? 

Suddenly, his eyes light up and he pulls her closer into a one-armed hug. “Aw, you gave me a nickname. Gotta admit that’s not what I was expecting, but I dig it. Thanks, friendo.” 

“Yes,” she says faintly. “I thought I would give you a nickname, because that’s what friends do. And we are friends now.” 

He grins. She is grateful that she is not cursed with Pinocchio’s nose. 

It is an embarrassingly long time before she learns that his name is Kim.


End file.
